A Series of Meetings
by ThatChicThatLikesToSing
Summary: A house by the beach. A reality TV show. A trip in the rain. No matter the paths they lead, Klaine will forever prevail.
1. A House by the Beach

**Alright, so lately, I've been very easily inspired. Every time I'm inspired, I pick up my phone immediately, and start typing. Of course, something happens, making me abandon this new project, and I've only got a little spurt of the first chapter. So, I've decided, I'll upload these little inspirations into one giant fic. One day, in the future, I might look back at these and say 'Hey. I should really make a story out of that.' So, without further ado, here are my little seeds! And please, don't mind the crazy, unedited bits of my mind about characters (DISCLAIMER!) that I don't own and aren't created from the madness of my mind. Thank you. x)**

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Click. Click. Click. Click.

The sound of Kurt Hummel's designer dress shoes echoed through the street as he walked up to one of the grandest houses he had ever seen. It was beautifully built, with light blue panelling and white trim. It kept with the cottage-by-the-sea feel of the area.

He smiled at the house, happy to know that one of his lifelong dreams had come true. Own a cottage by the sea? Well, considering it was three stories, it was practically a mansion, but it was close enough. He made a check on his mental list.

Walking to the front door, he squeezed the key clamped in his hand. He released it from his grasp and admired the white, slightly weathered door. Placing the key in the lock, he turned it until it clicked, pushing the door open.

The door opened into a huge, vaulted ceiling living room, already complete with tasteful furniture. He had come in earlier that week to direct the movers where things should be placed. However, decor and other small items still laid in boxes strewn about the house. He reminded himself to hire some help within the next few days.

Kurt Hummel was not a poor man by any means. He was actually what his step-brother Finn describes as 'a bazillionaire'. He had made his living off of fashion designing. The name Kurt Hummel was splayed across magazines all over the world, and it wasn't uncommon to see his designs covering supermodels on runways. After all, he had dressed celebrities for everything from the Oscars to the Tonys.

He walked up the stairs to his bedroom. To his surprise, there were already sheets and blankets on his bed. To his greater surprise, he found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush all sitting on his bathroom counter. Looking closer, he saw a small piece of paper held down by the hairbrush. He unfolded it and read.

Kurt,

I figured you would probably have some trouble finding your essentials for the first night, so I bought you some and paid the movers to set them out for me. New York is sure going to miss you, and Finn and I will too! Enjoy the sandy beaches, and stay in touch!

With love,

Rachel

P.S.-Go looking in the closet! Mercedes left you a message, too.

Kurt smiled as warmness filled his heat. As much of an arrogant drama queen that girl could be, he still loved her to pieces. He set down the note and walked over to the huge, walk-in closet. The closet was bare except for some pajamas, an outfit for the next day, and pair of swim trunks. Attached to the swimsuit was another note.

Go enjoy those crystal blue waters for me, white boy! And don't you even dare think about not!

XOXO,

Cedes

Peering out the window at the beautiful, calm waters, he decided to take that advice. After slipping the swim trunks on, he walked down to the back door and exited into his backyard. Although, now that he looked at it, it wasn't exactly what the normal 'backyard' would entail.

A long, gorgeous covered patio with a large swimming pool and spa spread out before Kurt, petering off into a white, sandy beach. Water lapped calmly at the edge, beckoning him. Backyard was definitely not the right word. Private beach was more appropriate.

The area was only fenced along the patio. This must've meant the long beach was shared with the neighboring house, which was lying several hundred feet down the beach. It was quite a bit smaller than Kurt's, but still large. It looked to be only two stories; then again, so did Kurt's, but there was also a whole basement level unseen to prying eyes.

Kurt shrugged off his shirt, walking down to the beach. He had brought along a large, floating lounge that was usually used in a pool. Laying himself down, he pushed his feet off the beach, and floated out into the calm waters.

It was so relaxing out there. A clear, blue sky filled his vision. The white fluffy clouds were positioned perfectly as to block out the bright sun. His eyes drifted close, and the sensation of the contradiction suddenly came to light. The sun was warming his face and neck, but the cool water lapped at his feet and legs. As he laid there, he suddenly heard the faint strums of a guitar. The strums grew louder and louder, twisting together to make a relaxing, acoustic melody.

Kurt's eyes sprung open in surprise as he took in a soft, slightly rough voice. It blended smoothly with the guitar, interweaving with the acoustic strings. He sat up on his floating lounge, and shielded his eyes from the now-annoying sunlight, now regretting his contradiction to raccoon eyes. Squinting through the brightness, he could vaguely see a man sitting on the porch of the house further down the shared beach.

Without thinking, he pushed his hands through the water, moving his lounge closer to the shore and that enchanting song. Although it was still hard to see, features of the man started to show. His short, ridiculously curly hair was one of them.

He jerked away from his intense scrutinizing when his toes started brushing sand. What was his problem? Ogling a complete stranger like that, much less his neighbor? As his internal conflict raged, he unconsciously pulled the lounge onto the shore and started to walk down the white sand. He cursed himself when finding he had walked the entirety of the beach without notice. At the moment, he was about 50 feet from the musician's patio, and still going. It was quite obvious that he was no longer on his own property.

The man paid no mind to the stranger on his beach. He was too immersed in the music. His eyes were closed, foot tapping to the rhythm, his heart and soul pouring through his voice and fingers. He was truly lost in the music.

The man whistled in harmony with his guitar as the last few strums trickled out. A content smile filled his face. He opened his eyes, scanning along the smooth waters, until his eyes landed on Kurt. At this point, Kurt was standing on the edges of the patio, his bare shoulder resting against a support column. That could quite possibly be considered stalker-ish, Kurt thought to himself, but shoved the thought down. The man's beautiful hazel eyes scrutinized him, clearly confused.

"Hello. Can I help you?" he said as Kurt stood awkwardly. The words wouldn't come to him as he stared with his mouth wide open.

"Oh, uhm, hi," Kurt stammered as words spilled out of his mouth without thought, "I, uh, just wanted to tell you that your, um, voice is beautiful." The stranger's eyes went wide in shock, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks.

"I mean with the song!" Kurt said, attempting to hurriedly clean up his involuntary words, "Your voice and the song were really good! Together!" God, he was such an idiot! What was it with being so inarticulate?

The stranger gave a slight, surprised laugh, "Thanks. I really appreciate that." A small, warm smile appeared on his handsome face.

"I'm Kurt," he said as stuck out his hand with out warning, suddenlyL wondering if his skin was as warm as it looked.

"Blaine," he said, and met his hand with Kurt's. With that small touch of a hand, the two had just unknowingly set off a chain of events that would change and intertwine their futures in wonderful ways.

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**AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER, WITH ADORABLE KLUDDLES AND COTTON KLANDY AND KLAINEBOWS.**

**This idea has been bothering me forever. My inspiration this time? I went to Newport Beach over Spring Break. As soon as I got home after an amazing whale watching trip off of Balboa Island, I sat down and typed on my iPod until my thumbs started to cramp. Which was about 2 AM.**

**Anyways, the song I imagine Blaine singing is I Still Think by Darren Criss. I honestly don't know why. Maybe because I love that song? Who knows.**

**So, as always, same old deal - comment, follow, favorite, don't. It's all the same to me. Although, it is a bit of an ego boost when I get an alert in my email for one of those. =)**


	2. Last One Standing

**Yay! Meetings, Episode Deux! I was actually going to wait until Saturday to put this out, but I found out I'm going to be really busy tomorrow, and Saturday I'll be commuting to California. Regardless, I'm surprised I got this out as fast as I did, especially considering my track record. Anyways, thank you so much for all the follows! It's really amazing when I wake up and my email is full of a bunch of story alerts from you guys. Although, it would be fantastic to get an email for a review (maybe this chapter? *crosses fingers*). It's also surprising that you guys deal with the unedited ramblings of my mind. So, thanks. =)**

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"Kurt, you have to sign-up!"

Kurt Hummel would learn to hate a certain Rachel Berry for those words. Those damn words were what led him to this situation. Well, to tell the truth, his own words were actually what brought him here.

"Oh my god, that is the best idea you've ever had! I'm going to do it! What's the website?"

He guessed, _technically_, it wasn't exactly 100% her fault. She didn't force the laptop into his hands. She didn't shove his fingers on to the keys that would virtually give away his entire identity. She didn't smash his hand down on the enter button after he completed the form. She didn't make him do anything. But he was still blaming her, no matter how many times she denied it.

And, yes, three weeks after the pairs' drunken moment of stupidity, Kurt HAD squealed like a little girl when one of the producers called to tell him he had made the show. But it still didn't matter. Because it was still Rachel Berry's fault.

And that was exactly why Kurt was standing in the middle of the freaking forest with the rest of this season's cast of the hit reality TV show, Last One Standing. One of the producers, a pot-bellied guy with a nasty, greasy comb over, was explaining their agendas and the rules of the game. To tell the truth, he hadn't really been paying attention to much of what the guy was saying. He was much busier fantasizing about all the different ways he could kill Rachel when he got back. He was halfway through a particularly detailed one that included a bear and a packet of mustard, when his thought process was interrupted by the producer.

"'Ey kid! I'd really 'preciate it if ya could at least act like ya a li'l bit interested," comb-over Cal yelled at Kurt, giving him a squinty-eyed glare. Kurt barely restrained a fierce eye roll. Unfortunately, he couldn't do the same for his sharp tongue.

"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate it if you could be a little less boring," Kurt said with a sarcastic smirk, "But, we can't all get what we want, so I'll deal."

By the end of Kurt's snarky comment, steam was about to shoot out Comb-over's ears. "If ya wantin' to be on this show, ya better gain a li'l respect. Ya not gonna last long, otherwise."

Kurt's eyes narrowed, "Thanks, but I think I'll take my chances."

Get on the producer's bad side with in the first couple hours of arriving. Check.

After the lecture from Pot-Bellied Pete, the group was led into a little hut, which was full of food. "I would recommend eating while food is still readily available," said the pretty blonde that had ushered them in there, "I would also recommend getting to know your cast mates as well as you possibly can. You are going to be deserted for a month, so take advantage of this opportunity."

After she left, people started drifting towards one another, already forming mental alliances. And of course, that excluded Kurt. A few minutes of waiting made it obvious that no one thought he was interesting. With nothing better to do, he meandered over to one of the tables of food. He picked up a skewer of fresh fruit, and leaned his back against the table, surveying the crowd. By now, mostly everyone had made their way over to a big group. They seemed to be surrounding a certain person, but Kurt couldn't tell who. Then, a few people shifted, giving him a clear view of the main spectacle.

He had dark hair that was flattened with helmet of gel, but the humidity seemed to be winning, as some corkscrew curls had formed around his forehead. The gorgeous, bright hazel eyes and thick, long lashes were visible even from Kurt's table across the room. He had full, pink lips shaped into a wide, charismatic smile that was laughing at some funny thing that was said. Overall, he was absolutely gorgeous.

Sighing into his pineapple, Kurt dreamed of the day when hot guys like that were gay. Although, he couldn't lose hope, because there was a possibility that his gaydar could pick up something different. All he had to do was talk to the guy.

Which was a nearly impossible task with all of the salivating women _and_men. All of the women had unmistakable lust in their eyes, while the men had devotion in theirs. This was going to be like fighting a pack of wild animals for a delicious filet minion. After a short period of mental debate, Kurt decided to wait, and avoid certain death. Turning back towards the table, he grabbed another skewer and some pink drink.

"Excuse me?"

Kurt spun around to snap at whoever it was for interrupting his gorge on fruit skewers, and instead choked on the banana that was in his mouth. It was Mr. Charismatic, and he was now patting his hand on Kurt's back, making it hard for him to breathe. In this current situation, that wasn't a good thing.

After finally getting his coughing nearly restrained, Mr. Sexy spoke. "I'm sorry I scared you," he said with genuine concern, "Are you okay?" Kurt's throat was a little hoarse at that moment, so he just gave him a thumbs up, and coughed a little more. Mr. Full Lips decided to speak again after the reassurance.

"Good," he said, maybe even a little nervously, "My name is Blaine, and I just wanted to tell you that the thing you said to the producer earlier was hilarious. We were all thinking the same thing," he considered this for a moment, "Well, I was at least. I was half asleep, so I really wasn't paying attention to anyone else."

Wow, he had an amazing smile. The fantastic thing about it was he didn't just smile with his mouth; his whole face emanated happiness. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks scrunched up. He was beautiful.

Kurt stared at him with a stupefied and awed expression on his face. Blaine's smile faltered. "Is there something wrong?" he said with a frown.

Forcing his mouth into action, Kurt sputtered out a hoarse "no, no" before downing the rest of his pink drink and clearing his throat. "Sorry," Kurt said sheepishly, "Thanks. I'm Kurt. I mean, that's my name. My name is Kurt. Okay, I'm going to shut up now." Wow, this guy probably thought he was an idiot.

Blaine gave a soft little chuckle, and stuck out his hand, which Kurt received. "It's nice to meet you," said Blaine with a smile, "You're not anything like the other people here. I think we're going to have a lot of fun together."

Kurt's body warmed from head to toe. Oh, yes. Hopefully, he and this boy would have _lots _of fun together.

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**Ooooh, perhaps our little Kurtie Pie is thinking kinky thoughts? Hmmmmmm...*cue devilish smile***

**Anyways, I have a confession to make. I watched 'Love in the Wild' *wince* when I wrote this. My inspiration was by fault of guilty pleasure. Sue me. Actually, please don't. I have nothing to give**.


	3. Cats and Dogs

**Episode Tres, people. I figured I would put you guys out of you misery (because, holy crap, the amount of traffic this story is getting is ridiculous!), so it has arrived. I'll see you again at the end of the chapter. ;)**

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It was a miserably rainy day in New York City. The clouds had appeared out of nowhere on what had started out as warm, sunny morning, and turned it into a cold, dark, and damp afternoon. The streets were slick with the sheets of water attempting to drown the city. The normally crowded sidewalks had fizzled down to a few people jogging through the rain, huddling their heads downward in order to lessen the blow.

This sudden storm had confounded meteorologists across the city. It seems the system that they expected to be a dud turned into a good, old-fashioned downpour. But while this rain stumped the weather community, it merely caught a few tourists by surprise, as the city's residents were used to the sudden rain. And, of course, a recently former Ohio citizen who had a deep, passionate love for hair gel.

Blaine Anderson stared down at his brown oxfords, assuming the huddled position of the people around him. He walked quickly, hoping to get home as soon as possible before his hair got completely out of control. Unfortunately, he wouldn't make it there as soon as he'd hoped. He would run into someone-quite literally.

And then it happened. Right in the middle of the slippery, deserted sidewalk. On to which Blaine fell promptly on to his ass from the force. Which was followed by the deafening crack of his head against concrete.

Ouch.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" shrieked an apologetic, high-pitched voice, "Oh, shit, are you okay?"

He barely registered the person kneeling down next to him, because, man, his head was really starting to hurt. In addition to that, his butt was soaked all the way to his underwear. It definitely wasn't the most enjoyable position to be in.

"Can you move?" the voice asked anxiously.

Blaine grunted a pained "yeah", and the person moved forward to help him up. And then he was face to face with gorgeous blue eyes. His own went wide as the stranger helped him over to the inside of the sidewalk, in front of some business. Blaine settled against to wall, the pain in the back of his head shocking him out of his ogling.

"I am so, so, so sorry that I ran into you! I'm kind of in a hurry because of the rain, so I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going. If you need anything, I promise I'll go get it for you," the stranger rambled nervously, who Blaine now noticed was a very attractive, brunette man that looked about his age.

"Uh, it's okay," Blaine said roughly before clearing his throat, "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and it was a complete accident. I'll be okay, as long as I get some tylenol soon," he winced as he gently touched the throbbing bump on the back of his head, "And maybe an ice pack."

"Well, I think there's a coffee shop around here somewhere. They're bound to have ice," the man looked around, and nodded his chin towards the coffee shop across the street, "Yeah, right there. Can you make it over there okay?"

The man turned towards Blaine for confirmation. Blaine nodded, and the man came over to help him up. He placed an arm around his shoulders to steady him, and they walked toward the shop. As they walked up to the front door, the man turned toward Blaine.

"By the way, my name is Kurt," the man said with a smile, "I don't think I caught yours"

His smile widened and he said, "Hi, Kurt. My name's Blaine."

And at that short introduction, the pair walked into the coffee shop.

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**INSPIRATION CIRCLE! Gather around, children, to hear my story.**

**It was pouring buckets outside during a very Klaine-ish Glee episode, and so I thought it would be adorable if they met in the future in NYC by running into each other in the rain.**

***sigh* What a cliché. I seriously need a reality check.**

**Anyways, favorite, follow, comment, or don't, kiddos. I will love you any way.**


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